The Detective Underneath
by SherlockChlo
Summary: Sherlock and John meet once again, but it's a time from their life far before we've seen. Can they solve the case of their friendship? And who is this Moriarty person? All rights go to the BBC, Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat.
1. We Are Young

_**Chapter 1**_

**Sherlock's P.O.V**

Boarding School. How _pitiful_. How can anyone stand it? It's just a way for unloving parents to ship their children off so that they can continue their lives easier than if the child were there. My parents _obviously _fit into that category, considering how early they settled me into a suit and packed me off to France. I was eight years old. Extraordinary, isn't it?

One thing that my parents didn't consider though was my education in France abruptly ending when I was eleven because I had been expelled from every boarding school that was respectful for the Holmes name. Apparently I had been '_disrespecting the boundaries that teachers hold when they decide to take on the distasteful work of teaching the young_' whatever that meant. How was I supposed to know that Miss Green didn't want everyone knowing that she was having an affair with he boyfriend's sister? Anyhow, I soon found myself starting into boarding schools in England and pissing off that lots of teachers as well. Wasn't too hard.

"_William Sherlock Scott Holmes _get down here this _instant_!" I always know what this sentence means when it is shouted up the garden or into the attic where I conduct all of my experiments; after being excluded for some _comment _that I made about some boy and his sister who are sleeping together. My mother and father would take turns at slapping me when the news broke. I say slap. What I really mean is that I am dragged underground, chained to a bed and left to starve for three days, after I've been slapped by my mother and kneed in the stomach by my father. It's all rather _tedious _if you ask me. They simply cannot do anything less _predictable _with my time.

Any way. Today is the first day of my latest, in one long line of ten boarding schools in England and five in France, boarding schools. How _dull_! I haven't left yet; Mycroft hasn't let me leave because he feels that he needs to give me _another _talk on how to behave like a Holmes. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs so I start to fold my shirts. The purple one is my favourite. I'll be able to wear it after classes and on weekends. Of course I'll be alone so nobody will comment on how amazing it makes me look. I don't need them though. I know how amazing it makes me look without their comments. Mycroft is standing at my door now, umbrella in hand and standing as tall as he can.

"Good morning, Mycroft. May I ask why you are standing at my door at four in the morning. I know that I have to leave at six, but surely your '_be good, dear brother_' speech won't last two hours... Like the last time?!" I smile to myself and turn to face my older brother. "Wow, brother. You've put on three pounds in the last week. Diet not working out for you then?" I smirk and fold my arms across my chest.

"Just like you it seems, Sherlock." Mycroft replies sarcastically. I must admit that I have lost a couple of pounds in the past few weeks. What can I say? I've been expelled from two schools in the past six months. "I really think you should start putting on weight; you are a growing man after all." Now it is his turn to smirk at me as my arms fall to my sides and I raise my eyebrows.

"What _exactly _is it that you want, Mycroft. I am getting ready for school, _just_ as you asked. I have _not _packed my skull, _just _as you asked. What more do you want to torment me with before I never see you again."

"Whatever do you mean, little brother?"

"You. In the Government. _Really_, Mycroft? The _Government_. I thought you of all people would be able to choose a creative job of some kind."

"Oh, but, Sherlock. You do realise that when Mummy and Daddy find out about your little _drug _problem, that _I'll _be the one that has to settled everything with the police and our parents. Don't you think I will be a little useful to you in the position?" Mycroft has moved himself to my bed now and is inspecting the bottom of his umbrella. Why_ does _he carry that infernal thing around everywhere?

"I won't need your help, Mycroft, because mother and father will never find out. Please leave." I say almost politely. When Mycroft doesn't move I raise my hand to point at the door and shout, "OUT!" I don't think I've ever seen my brother move so slowly, and _that_ is saying something. Finally I can go into my Mind Palace without my brother's movements tumbling through my thoughts.

"Sherlock!" I hear my brother call from the bottom of the stair case. "It's time to go to your new school." I sigh deeply before shoving my skull into my case and closing it off before I change my mind. Mycroft will know, of course, but it is where I keep my needle just in case. It's the perfect hiding place, strangely enough. None of my previous room mates have wanted to go near it.

I walk down the stairs, dragging my case behind me, before grabbing my coat and scarf wrapping them both tightly around my body. Mycroft is probably right, though I'd never tell him, I do need to put a few pounds on. I'm seeing my ribs more than I would like. But eating is such a time waster, and my mind cannot function to the correct standard if I eat. My brain is more important to me than my body.

"Oh, brother dear, there is no need to look so excited. It is only _another _school for you to get expelled from." Mycroft can be such a dick sometimes.

"Sorry, Mycroft. I didn't realise that the scowl I was wearing meant that I was excited. I'll try harder next time to not look as excited." I push past him and shove my case next to the car. I hear him chuckle behind me so I turn to face his smirk one last time. "_What_?!"

"Oh, do stop being so childish, Sherlock. You're fifteen for goodness sake. Start acting like your age."

"You're twenty-two, I don't see you acting any more grown up than I."

"Are you not going to say a farewell to our parents?"

"No-pe." I enjoyed popping the 'p' when I said nope, or yep. With my voice I could do it very easily when the time arose for me to answer the _boring _questions the teachers decided to ask me. "Goodbye, Mycroft. Enjoy being boring." And with that, I step into the car and slam the door behind me. This is going to be one long trip.

**John's P.O.V**

"Hey, Johnny boy. Have you heard the news?" I could hear Greg shout from behind me. He's running towards me in his new trainers that he's been showing off for the past two weeks.

"Please, Greg. We've discussed this. You know that only my mum and sister can call me that." I turn to face him and give him my best stance. He's still a bit taller than me. _Bastard. _

"Well, it's not my fault I heard it when you invited me over, is it?" Greg always knows how to twist my anger, and today is no exception. At least I know he does it so that I'll play as aggressively as I can during the rugby match later on. Other just take the piss because I'm shorter than them, or not as smart as them. They are people that I like to categorise in the '_Stupid Dicks of the Year_' category of the people I know. Notice how I said people, not person.

"Whatever, _Gregory. _Any way, what did you want to tell me?"

"Huh?"

"You said '_have I heard the news_'? No, I haven't. What news?" I see Greg's smirk replace his smile and I sigh deeply. "Don't tell me. That new kid is arriving today." Greg nods and starts to laugh, almost silently. "How many schools has he been expelled from again?" Greg only laughs harder, which is getting extremely annoying now.

"Don't worry, John. I'm sure he's not _that _bad. In fact, I've heard that he's a bit of a genius." Greg places his hand on my shoulder, supposedly as a source of comfort. "But, also that's he's a freak."

"I think I'd like to decide that for myself if you don't mind. I haven't even met- What's his name?" I ask, relatively irritated by my friend's presumptions. I don't understand how people could call others '_freak_' or '_worthless_' because nobody could be like that. Especially not someone they've never met themselves.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Right. I haven't met Sherlock, and neither have you by the sounds of it, so how can you just listen to others?"

"_Jesus,_ John. I saw him getting beaten up, which was why I came to find you, because he said that Anderson was sleeping with Sally." My eyes widen before I push past Greg and run the way we both came. "West Court, John. Go get 'em!" I hear Greg shout behind me, but I don't pay any attention.

**Sherlock's P.O.V**

"Sir, we've arrived." The driver announces, pulling me from my Mind Palace and back to reality. Ugh. I'm already dreading walking into that monstrosity. It looks positively _awful_. Time to go and make people move away from me, I think. I step out of the car and walk forward until I'm leaning against a tree. Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath and re-open them. A tallish boy walks towards me with a girl on his arm. Obviously he girlfriend.

"Hey, new boy." The boy shouts in my face. I can feel his spit on my nose so I wipe it off with my sleeve.

"Hello." I say to the girl before announcing, "Did you know that your boyfriend is sleeping with that girl over there," I point to a girl with tightly curled hair and look back at the boy, "I suggest that you break it off now."

"What did you say?" The boy shouts at me. Once again spit flying onto my face.

"I wish that you would learn to control your issues with talking and spitting. Or rather _shouting _and spitting. It is _very unhygienic_ and I would rather not catch your germs, Anderson."

The boy looks puzzle before grabbing me by the collar of my coat and slamming me against the tree as hard as he can. Which is not very hard if you ask me. "How do _you _know my name,-er."

"My name is Sherlock Holmes, Philip Anderson. I noticed that the girl you're sleeping with was texting you as I walked past her. It was _obviously _you because you smiled and looked straight at her when your phone buzzed. That's how I know your name. Anything else you'd like to kn-ugh" Before I know it, my nose has been punched and I'm bleeding into my hand and scarf. I hold my nose briefly before ducking another punch and chuckling slightly as Anderson smashes his hand against the bark. I twist away and turn to face him.

"Stay put!" He shouts at me before taking another swing. He gets my jaw, but I quickly respond with a right hook to the stomach and and elbow to the jaw. In the distance, I notice a boy with silver hair running into the building before my vision is clouded with Anderson's fist once again. This time I allow him to straddle my arms to my sides as he takes the punches at my face. I block out most of it, but, if I've counted correctly, he has landed eight blows onto each side of my face. My nose is broken and I'll be badly bruised. Anderson's girlfriend is pulling him off me and there is a crowd around us now.

I can vaguely hear someone shouting me name, _my _name, before a pair of deep blue eyes are before my own. They are _very _beautiful. _No_. I can't think like everyone else. My body is just transport.

"Sherlock. How many fingers am I holding up?" The blue eyed boy asks me holding three fingers in the air.

"Three. Honestly. I've only got a broken nose, whoever you are, there's no need to lap 'round me like a lost puppy." I reply before standing, wiping my nose on my scarf and looking around me. Everyone is staring, including the blue eyed boy. "What?" I almost scream and everyone walks away swiftly.

"Sherlock, I think you need to get that seen to." That boy is speaking to me again. Why won't he leave me alone. And how does he know my name?

"How do you know my name?" I ask him as I look down to my knuckles. They're slightly bruised, but they'll be fine compared to my face. When I look up the boy is staring at me as though he's an animal that's been caught in a headlight. "Well?"

"S-sorry. I'm John Watson, hi. I'm your room mate. My friend Greg Lestrade came to find me when he saw that you were being beaten by Anderson. I came down as soon as I could!" I continue to stare at the boy-John Watson. Not only are his eyes beautiful, but life has certainly not let him down on the rest of his body. He's muscular, got blond hair and a face that lights up when he smiles; which he's doing right now.

"You, John Watson, one of the most popular in this entire school, ran here as fast as your short legs could take you-"

"Hey, I'm _not _short!"

"-so that you could come and stop the new boy from being beaten up because he told Anderson's girlfriend that she was being cheated on. Why would you do that? You obviously have a reputation to keep. So tell me, why did you come to help _me_? You don't even know me."

"How did you know that by the way?"

I sigh before replying, "It's simple, really. When I approached this tree I saw that Sally Donovan had just received a message that she was _clearly _flattered by because she adjusted her bra slightly before looking over towards Anderson. When she was replying I saw the name Anderson with a love heart next to it, obviously meaning that she was romantically involved with him. The fact that they were both wearing the same deodorant as each other, which is for men by the way, clearly tells me that they are sleeping together. When she replied to him he looked immediately at her and then left his girlfriend briefly in order to reply to the text. He would never risk replying in front of her, do he had to get away. When Sally received that message, she turned and he winked at her." I look back at John and see that his mouth is hanging open completely and his eyes are as wide as they can go.

"You can tell me to piss off or whatever now if you wish. I'll happily have a room that I only have." I prepare John to shout something at me but when I look back up he's smiling at me. "What?"

"That was... _extraordinary_!" He compliments me before chuckling slightly.

"Really?"

"Yes, absolutely extraordinary."

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off, you freak." I smile slightly before we both burst into laughter. Maybe John Watson will be different...

**John's P.O.V**

When I get outside, I can clearly see the area where Sherlock is being beaten. There are a group of other students gathered around a tree shouting, "Fight! Fight!" so it's not that hard to guess where Sherlock is. I sprint over and push past other students.

"Get out of the way!" I shout before crouching beside the boy on the ground. His nose is bleeding and broken by the looks of it, and he'll have _lots _of bruises tomorrow. Beside that he's _gorgeous_! What, John? You're not gay! Get your act together! His curls are raven and he had prominent cheekbones that made him look almost girl like with his hair.

"Sherlock? Sherlock? _Sherlock?_" I say over and over again in an attempt to get his attention. His eyes open and I am greeted with some of the most dead looking eyes I've ever seen. "Sherlock. How many finger am I holding up? I ask before holding up three fingers and wincing slightly. He looks empty.

"Three. Honestly. I've only got a broken nose, whoever you are, there's no need to lap 'round me like a lost puppy."I blink a couple of times before lowering my hand and staring at his injuries a little closer. "What?" He almost screams at everyone, and successfully they all start to leave us alone.

"Sherlock, I think you need to get that seen to." I can clearly see the pain he's in, though he's trying to hide it. He's doing pretty well, might I add.

"How do you know my name?" Sherlock asks me and looks down at his knuckles. I look at his hair a little closer and notice that he had hit head when he was shoved against the tree. "Well?"

"S-sorry. I'm John Watson, hi. I'm your room mate. My friend Greg Lestrade came to find me when he saw that you were being beaten by Anderson. I came down as soon as I could!" I ramble to him because that's all I can do when I'm staring at his injuries.

"You, John Watson, one of the most popular in this entire school, ran here as fast as your short legs could take you-"

"Hey, I'm _not _short!" I insist and hold my hands up.

"-so that you could come and stop the new boy from being beaten up because he told Anderson's girlfriend that she was being cheated on. Why would you do that? You obviously have a reputation to keep. So tell me, why did you come to help _me_? You don't even know me."

"How did you know that by the way?" I ask.

"It's simple, really. When I approached this tree I saw that Sally Donovan had just received a message that she was _clearly _flattered by because she adjusted her bra slightly before looking over towards Anderson. When she was replying I saw the name Anderson with a love heart next to it, obviously meaning that she was romantically involved with him. The fact that they were both wearing the same deodorant as each other, which is for men by the way, clearly tells me that they are sleeping together. When she replied to him he looked immediately at her and then left his girlfriend briefly in order to reply to the text. He would never risk replying in front of her, do he had to get away. When Sally received that message, she turned and he winked at her." My mouth is open wide and I'm staring at Sherlock rather embarrassingly. He's smirking slightly, but it's hardly noticeable.

"You can tell me to piss off or whatever now if you wish. I'll happily have a room that I only have." My mouth closes and I raise my eyebrows slightly. "What?" I smile.

"That was... _extraordinary_!" I exclaim to the boy and smile even more. Sherlock doesn't seem to believe me even though my words are whole-hearted.

"Really?"

"Yes, absolutely extraordinary."

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off, you freak." We both look at each other before we crack into a fit of laughter. Maybe Sherlock Holmes won't be as bad as everyone thinks he is. Sherlock is even more gorgeous when he smiles... For _God's _sake, John!


	2. Arguing

_**Chapter 2**_

Sherlock and John did eventually make their way to the medical room to get Sherlock's face sorted out. Turns out that the bruising would be just as bad as both of the boys presumed it would be. His nose was indeed broken, and _badly _at that. Not badly in terms of the breakage. Badly in terms of how little damage Anderson actually managed to do to Sherlock's nose even when he was punching with all of his force. Sherlock was sure that he could break his own nose better if he punched himself. In fact he would do an experiment on the matter. John _refused _to let Sherlock do that, _even _if it happened to be an '_experiment'_.

John _insisted _that Sherlock rest immediately when they got back to their dorm, but Sherlock refused and threatened to out John's questioning about himself to everyone if he argued. It turned out that John didn't like the idea very much, and agreed to let Sherlock to stay awake.

"Er... Sherlock?" John stammered, staring at the newly placed object on the window sill. He literally could not believe his eyes; the object staring back with the same integrity. "How does it stare like that? It doesn't even have eyes _to _stare with!?"

"Oh, do calm down, John. It's only a skull." Sherlock didn't even turn around to talk to his dorm mate. Just continued to unpack the three blazers, two of them _not _for school uniform purposes, he had inside his suitcase and hanging them up in his wardrobe.

"A-a skull. Why, of everything a fifteen year old boy cold have, do you own a skull? It just stares at you. Do you not find that, I don't know, _creepy _and unnerving?" John raised his eyebrows and continued to watch his dorm mate unpack the contents of his suitcase. "I mean, _porn magazines _I'd understand. Seriously, I would. But a _skull_. Well, that's a different sto-"

"Are you going to continue to be plain and annoying, or do you wish to ask me some more _interesting _questions that I might actually want to answer?" Sherlock interrupted, his voice dripping with so much sarcasm John actually thought that Sherlock's natural tone was sarcastic. When John turned to face the taller boy he found that Sherlock was staring at him intently. "You're a very easy person to read, John Watson."

"Am I?"

"Indeed you are. Would you like me to tell you what I see?"

"I don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?" John sighed, his shoulders slumping forward as he waited for the truth that he knew all too well.

"No-pe." Sherlock replied before circling John as if he were his prey. His eyes grew darker and narrower. His hands steepled underneath his chin and he stopped right in front of John. "John Watson. Rugby player and involved in the group of people that are regularly referred to as '_the assholes_'. Yes, I've met a lot of those people before; most of them wanting to see how long it would take me to cry out and beg. Until this day I have _never _begged for mercy in my life. Back to you. You're currently dating a girl called Sarah in an attempt to prove to yourself, as well as all as your friends, that you are _not _in fact gay. Of course you're not gay, John."

"Really?" John's eyes snapped up to stare at Sherlock, they were full of surprise and happiness. Sherlock also saw relief in there somewhere. Relief that he was about to _shatter_.

"No. You're in fact bi-sexual. You find both men and women attractive, naturally. You've got a brother who is clearly worried about your state because he is in fact gay himself and would like you to come out first so that it is easier on him to reveal his true affection scale. Your father is an alcoholic, and your brother is slowly following in his footsteps, and abuses all three of you. That's you, your mother and your brother. Why haven't your reported him John? Ah, you're too scared of what he'll do when he is released. Shame really. You'd be much happier and would probably stop punching that wall over _there_ when you hear your brother sobbing on the other end of the phone. It probably would help you if you went into the army, but of course you were already thinking about that."

"_That_ was _amazing_, Sherlock. How did you guess all of that?" John said utterly gob-smacked that Sherlock could have guessed all of that about his life. Sherlock knowing the truth didn't hurt John as much as he thought it would.

"I _never _guess about anything, John. I simply saw. You're obviously a rugby player because of your muscle to fat body ratio and the fact that your rugby boots are sitting over there. You cleaned them this morning, in fact. You're small but strong and fast. You proved that earlier when you pushed all of those other students out of the way just in order to get to _me_. I know that you're popular because nobody made an attempt to stop you from helping me. Most people know who you are then. Now then, Sarah. Several times I've seen you text her. John, you should _really _try and cover up your phone when you're sending Sarah _those _kind of messages. I really _don't _want to read them when I'm looking over your shoulder."

"Don't read over my shoulder then." John scolded, blushing furiously.

"Shut up, John. I know you're bi-sexual because you clearly like women, as Sarah has proved, but men. I have seen you looking, for long enough for it to be an eye grope, at no less than three other boys on the way here. Don't even try to deny it!" Sherlock said, holding his hand in the air as John tried to protest. "Now your brother and father and their drinking."

"Yes, how could you _possibly _know about the drinking?"

"As I've said, I've seen your phone plenty of times now from when you've been texting _Sarah_. There are scratch marks all around the power socket of the phone, but you don't drink regularly. You may go out with friends sometimes and get pissed, but it is not a regular thing. So the phone isn't yours then. Or it wasn't originally. The engraving on the back says '_Harry Watson_', so this must belong to another family member. Since your father is abusive because of the drinking issue he would not give you a phone. Probably even broke your last one. So this one belongs to your brother. The scratch marks indicate how much his hands shake when he's plugging the phone into charge. You never see a sober man's with them, and you never see and drunk's without them. As for him being gay, clearly Harry only gave this phone to you recently. I saw you deleting several links to gay porn sites on your history. You don't watch porn all that much-"

"Hey!"

"-And why would you be deleting them if you've been watching them so regularly? Therefore, you haven't. The way your eyebrows raised when I told you that he was gay indicated to me that you don't know. Waiting for you then so that he gets the softer treatment. I can see that your father is an alcoholic abuser because you have slight bruising around the throat from when you visited him during the half term holiday. The bruises are messier than they would be if he were sober, so he must have been drunk. It obviously isn't a rare event because as soon as I mentioned that I wanted to reveal everything I know about you your head and shoulders dropped. There." Sherlock took a deep breath and turned away from John to hide the expression of pure _rejection _that crossed his face.

"Wow. That is so _impressive, _Sherlock."

Sherlock turned back to John with a smile, "Did I miss anything?"

"No, you didn't miss anything, per say."

"What do you mean by that?" Sherlock asked, rather harshly, folding his arms across his chest and string at John with his eyebrows raised.

"Harry is short for Harriet." John replied with a smile before turning and giggling slightly. He pulled his shirt over his head, without thinking, and started to change for his first class. Sherlock noticed the bruises and scars scattered across John's back and chest. He really was in an _awful _state.

"Harry is your sister... _Sister_! There's always _something_." Sherlock hissed still staring at John and the damage across his body. John's voice brought him out of his trance. He hadn't realised he'd been string.

"Sherlock? Are you going to stand there all day staring at what my dad has done in the past, or are you going to get changed for your first day? I mean I've heard that you've been expelled from _lots _of other schools, but I was pretty sure you would at least give me a chance before you ran away and caused mischief." John smiled slightly before pulling his tie tightly around his throat.

"Fifteen."

"What?"

"I have been expelled from fifteen other boarding schools. Five schools around France until my parents could no longer find one that would fit their expectations for a place that would keep me in line and possibly even stop the thoughts that left my mouth. When those ran out I was immediately shipped back to England into the hands of my parents. That's when the starving started..." Sherlock looked at John's creased brow and ignored what had just left his mouth, instead continuing with his story. "I have since been to ten other boarding schools here in England in the past four years. Remarkable, isn't it?"

John shook his head. "No. Hold on. Go back. Your parents _starve _you? How _dare _you say that I don't have the balls to stand up to my father when you can clearly not even manage yourself properly. Sherlock. You can't just go around _accusing _people that _they _have problems. You clearly can't even handle your own parents, Sherlock Holmes. Go and sort yourself out before you accuse me of not being big enough!" John shouts before grabbing his coat and storming to the door.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock almost pleads to the other boy but remaining on his bed, not daring to move towards John.

"Out. I need some air, if that's alright with you, Sherlock!" John shouted towards the door before pulling it open and leaving the room with a slam.

Sherlock stood from his bed and moved towards the window. The only person he thought he might have been able to find _tolerable _has already left him. And not even a day into them knowing each other. This was probably a record for Sherlock. When he saw John leaving to go and stand with Sarah outside, Sherlock noticing that he took her hand immediately, he picked the skull up from the window sill and started to talk to it.

"What did I do to deserve to get sent to somewhere like _here_? Why won't John come back and talk to me before he makes presumptions?"

_Sherlock. You do realise that you practically accused John of being a wimp around his father when he is being beaten, when you yourself cannot even stand up to your own parents. _

"Oh, it's not the same." Sherlock shouted throwing the skull against the wall. He knew that it wasn't normal to talk to objects that didn't and couldn't talk back to him. Currently, however, Sherlock couldn't bring himself to _care _what other thought about him. Nor what he thought about himself. He only want to find out if John Watson would ever forgive him for what he said... And _then _apologise for '_getting the wrong end of the stick_' as they say.

Sherlock knew that John would be a tough cookie to crack now. He didn't know why, but John was different from everyone else. Yes, he reacted differently from them when he spilled John's whole life on a platter for him to chew and stab at, but now he had gone and left Sherlock alone on his first day.

"What a first day." Sherlock whispered to himself before changing and getting ready for his first day.


	3. Mr Government Official

_**Chapter 3**_

John was walking with Sarah through the school grounds, _desperately _trying to think about the gorgeous girl next to him, holding his hand and talking about _some _friend's horse, and _not _about the equally gorgeous guy that was still sitting in their dorm after John had embarrassingly _'gone off on one_'. When John stopped suddenly, Sarah didn't realise it for a moment. She continued to walk and talk to with herself, not even bothering to look back. John didn't care until Sarah said something loud enough for the taunt to be unmissable.

"I'm sorry. _What _did you just say?" John shouted to her before walking beside her and turning her to face him. She wore a slight angry smirk and looked John up and down.

"It seems to me that you have something more important on your mind than your girlfriend. Could it be that new, delicious piece of bony meat that is just waiting for you to notice him." John's eyes widened and he looked down to his shoes. After six months of owning them, they _suddenly _seemed more interesting than everything around him. "I have to admit, John, you chose very well. I mean just look at him. His _cheekbones _and that dark hair. I tell you what. He really fits the '_tall, dark and handsome_' category, doesn't he?"

"S-sarah."

"No, John. You know _exactly _where this is going and you will live it through. We're over, and I just want you to know that if you start dating the school freak then I don't think we can be-John."

John looked up to meet Sarah's eyes. They were staring directly at a man standing against a black car. He held an umbrella in his hand and had a three-piece suit tugged firmly around his form. Even from the distance that was between them, John could see the smirk that lay underneath his eyes. "Who is that?" He asked Sarah in an almost whisper.

"I presume you know as he's been staring at you for the past five minutes by the looks of it. Maybe _all _men find you attractive now that you've admitted that there's something more to your sexuality than you've let people believe. Goodbye, John. See you in class." With that, Sarah walked briskly back into the school building and crossed her arms. John didn't see the death glare he received from her when his back was turned.

"I-I'm not... Never mind." John turned to see the man had moved forward to stand no more than a couple of metres in front of John. He jumped back slightly causing the man to smirk even more. In John's opinion, he looked rather like the Cheshire Cat from '_Alice in Wonderland_'. Not that he would say that to the man, of course.

"Good morning, Mr Watson. Do come with me without making a fuss. It makes it so much easier on you." The man walked back towards his black car, a _very _nice car John thought, using his umbrella as though it was a walking stick. John slowly followed behind him, curiosity driving him to get into the car. How did this man known his name? "Please do stop dawdling, John, and get into the car."

John complied and immediately asked, "I'm sorry but, who the _hell _are you? And how do you know my name?"

"I know a _great _deal more than just your name Mr Watson, believe me. What is your status with Sherlock Holmes?"

John blinked a couple of times before his mouth opened and he realised that the man looked rather _aggravated_! He noticed that his mouth was opening and closing and that, right now, he probably looked like a fish out of water. "_Status_? What are you, the British Government or something? You certainly look and sound the part!" The man's smirk only grew wider, how could it even get that far? "I have no status with him. I've just met him, in fact. We have to share a dorm room, but that's it."

"Yet you've allowed him to uncover your sexuality and family issues, before storming off after he said that something that _clearly _angered you in a severe way. You even saved his neck in a fight that he was obviously losing, so tell me. How does your answer fit? I wouldn't call all of the above as having no status, Mr Watson. I'll repeat the question, shall I? What is your _status _with Sherlock Holmes?"

"As I've just said, Mr Government, I have no _status _with Sherlock. I saved him from Anderson because my mate Lestrade, one cracking bloke there, came to tell me that the new guy, who _I _was supposed to be keeping safe, was _already _being beaten up because of that _magic trick _that he can do."

"It's not a magic trick, Mr Watson. I assure you."

"Wait a minute. Who _are _you?"

"An interested party."

"What the _hell _is that supposed to mean?"

The man straightened his tie. "It means that I want you to keep and eye on Sherlock Holmes and report back to me every move that he makes. I assure you that you will be paid well for your services."

"No." John shook his head once and stared back at the man with the same vicious look.

"But I haven't even mentioned a figure."

"You don't have to. I will _not _be some spy for you. In fact, if you're so _concerned _for Sherlock's welfare then I'll tell you this. I'm going to be Sherlock Holmes' friend. Aww. Does that bother you, Mr Government? You can take what ever concern you have about Sherlock and stuff it up your arse, because to _me _you're just one _creepy _guy, sitting in his car and watching young boys hold hands with their girlfriend."

"_Ex_-girlfriend, if I'm not mistaken, Mr Watson." John's gaze didn't flinch until he felt his phone vibrate suddenly in his pocket, causing him to jump slightly. He _really _hoped that '_Mr Government_' didn't see his slight shake and mistake it fear. John held his phone out and read the text to himself, _'Come at once, if convenient. -SH_'. 'Bloody Sherlock Holmes' John thought to himself. "Am I interrupting something of great importance?" The man asked with his eyebrows raised.

"No. Do carry on with your explanation of why you're stalking my room mate." John crossed his arms and felt his phone vibrate once more, taking a quick look at it. _'If inconvenient, come any way. -SH'. _

"I worry about him... _Constantly_." The man admitted before looking John up and down. "It's a shame that of _all _people you have decided to side with Sherlock Holmes. That could be a mistake, you know. I should know. Sherlock himself would call me his 'Arch-Enemy'."

"I might be wrong, but I don't think it's any of your business to know what my '_status_' is with Sherlock. Constant concern or no concern." John's phone vibrated once again and he read the latest message Sherlock had sent him. _'Could be dangerous. -SH'_. "I really have to get going now, Mr Government Official, I bid you a good day and hope to _never _see you again." With that, John left the car, giving the door a good slam and walking back to the building rather quickly.

"Sherlock?" John called into the room as he entered and looked around to find Sherlock standing in front of a mirror so that his refection was blocked by his body. "_Sherlock_?" John asked once more, slightly out of breath as he had run up the stairs, and walked forward to close the door behind him.

"This is hard."

"What?"

"_Really _hard. Hardest thing I've ever had to do." Sherlock spoke, looking down at his hands that were at his chest, by the look of things. "Do you know how to tie a tie?" Sherlock asked turning around to John and revealing the knot that Sherlock had made in his tie.

"_What_?"

"I really do _hate _repeating myself, John. That's another thing you should know about me. Can you, or can you not, do ties?" Sherlock threw his hands in the air and stared intensely at John. When John giggled, yes _giggled, _Sherlock's eyebrows raised and his stare intensified. "What?"

"You. For the smartest person I know, you can be incredibly, well, naïve about some things." Sherlock's eyebrows raised even further up his face. "Okay, there's no need to raise you eyebrows any further, Sherlock. You're not having a '_how high can I get my eyebrows_' contest with anyone." John giggled again and Sherlock's eyebrows decided to crease this time.

"John. Can you just do my tie and then show me to my lesson. I can't bear you any longer."

"You're the one who told me to come here, Sherlock. I presumed that it would be dangerous considering that text you sent. Speaking of that, I just met a friend of yours." John told his room mate as he attempted to get rid of the knot in Sherlock's tie.

"A _friend_?" Sherlock asked, completely bewildered by John's confession. Sherlock Holmes didn't have _friends_. And nor would he if he kept treading on the slowly cracking path that he'd decided to cross with John Watson.

"An enemy." Sherlock's eyes looked less afraid now as he stared down at the smaller boy.

"_Oh. _Which one?"

"Well, you're Arch-Enemy." John told the raven haired boy as he finished tying and pushed the newly fixed tie into his room mate's collar. Sherlock's brows creased once more as he looked down at John.

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?" John nodded and looked concerned into the taller boy's eyes. "Did you take it?"

"No."

"Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time." Sherlock walked away from John and picked up his bag. John remained where he was and frowned slightly in confusion. "Come along, John. I don't want to be late on my first day. Mycroft will skin me alive if I am."

"W-wait. _Who _is Mycroft?" John asked, grabbing his bag as Sherlock left the room. When he caught up, Sherlock still hadn't answered so he asked again. "Sherlock, who is Mycroft?"

"Oh, just my annoying brother." That was all John heard about Mycroft until after the case, but you'll have to wait and see about that.


	4. I'm sorry that he was an idiot

_**Chapter 4**_

"And _what _exactly did you say to Mr Roberts to make him send you to the Head on your first day, Sherlock?" John asked his new friend; completely astounded to find Sherlock sitting, and _smirking _no less, outside the Head's office on his _first _day. John himself had been on his way to pick his friend up from class in order to show him to the next, and that obviously involved passing the _'to-rags' _of the school, as his mum liked to put it. He had started calling Sherlock his friend ever since that Government man kidnapped him and offered him money. Sherlock was _clearly _a little different to himself and everyone else, but that wouldn't stop John from protecting him against anyone that came near him.

When Sherlock's smirk grew, John knew that he was in for a tale. In class, John had been contemplating what Sherlock's power was, exactly. He read John's life off of him without any knowledge of him before hand. In all honesty, John was completely and utterly curious about Sherlock and what made him tick. He couldn't even get his tie together without John's assistance, yet he could spot the smallest thing on Anderson and say that he was sleeping with Sally Donovan from three metres away.

"What _ever _could you mean, John?" Now Sherlock was smiling; he had realised that John now considered him a friend and he strangely accepted it easily. When John smiled back slightly, before recovering and replacing the smile with a frown, Sherlock couldn't find it... _Adorable_. '_Did I really just think that?_' He asked himself before smiling even more, just to himself, of course.

"I mean, why are you sitting here outside the Head's office. I know Mr Roberts and he _never _sends people out! So you must have done _something _to upset him, Sherlock, and I want to know what that was!" John's voice had raised slightly, he himself know realised that Sherlock had probably shown off to everyone and upset several members of the class.

"What? I only told Mr Roberts that he should get some medication for his erectile dysfunction and that his fiancée trying to get his penis to fully erect by tying him to the bed, putting a ball gag in his mouth and hitting him with the riding crop would not work. Yet again, the medication _might _have been mentioned there." Sherlock now gave John a toothy grin, and before John could stop himself, he too was smiling with his friend.

"How do you know all that?" John asked, not particularly thinking about how _nasty _Sherlock's actions were towards the teacher.

"Mr Roberts makes the stupid mistake of wearing his sleeves up on his shirt so that the bruising on his wrists was _amazingly obvious _to nobody except me. But then again, I never miss a thing and normal people never really notice the obviousness of others. He also had a stiff jaw, which was clear by the way he couldn't talk for long, has slight marks from where the leather of the gaga had been on his face and the fact that he kept rubbing and shifting his jaw in an attempt to loosen it. It hurt him mostly when he opened his mouth fully, so something had been placed in his mouth for a long period of time. That and the fact that he wore a white shirt today, so I could clearly see the _vicious _red welts through the white to identify it as a riding crop. I should know, I have one myself that I like to use for experiments sometimes-"

"Y-you _what_?!" John almost screamed looking a little bit more than scared.

"Oh, do keep up, John. I own a riding crop, what's so wrong about that? Any way. On the way into class I looked over his shoulder to see him texting his fiancée about his '_condition_' before wiping his brow and adjusting his trousers. Either it was a dirty message, which I know it wasn't, I mean who would put '_We need to get your dysfunction seen to in the downstairs area, Mr Erectile_' in a dirty message? Or it was about his little problem. I'm sorry that he was an idiot for not covering everything up properly! Definitely the second considering he shouted at me so loud I had to adjust my hearing afterwards and wipe his spit off of my face. Graham Lestrade next to me just laughed and told me that he'd _never _shouted at a student before. I was the first then."

"T-that was _fantastic_! I mean, it was an awful thing to do, Sherlock, but utterly fantastic." John smiled down at his friend and then continued, "Although, it isn't Graham. His name is Greg."

"_Greg_?"

"Yeah, Greg Lestrade. Two years my senior and finally not with too many _girls_ that he can _actually_ pay attention in class to get his A-Levels." John chuckled to himself and then stopped suddenly. "I never asked. You look younger than the rest of us, how comes you're taking A-Levels?"

Sherlock smirked, "_Just_ because I look younger, John, doesn't _necessarily_ mean that I _am_ younger than you."

"_Are_ you younger than I am?"

"Yes. I'm fifteen, yet I'm taking my second year of A-Level classes two years early."

"So, you're a genius then?"

"Ye-p."

"Right. How much longer do you think you're going to be because I _really _need to get to-" John looked at the ceiling for a moment or two and bounced on the balls of his feet for a few seconds before forcing out a laugh and looking down at Sherlock again, "Biology. Most of my friends laugh, but I _really _want to be a doctor when I'm out of school, so. Biology is one of the top subjects on the list."

Sherlock studied John for a moment, resting on his lips for a few seconds before replacing the mask over his face and standing. "What do you know? We've got the same lesson, John. Let's get out of here before the Head realises that I was lying when I told her I felt ill." Sherlock grabbed John by the wrist and practically dragged John away.

"S-Sherlock."

"_What_?"

"As much as I admire your enthusiasm, Biology is the _other _way." John replied with a smirk and a point in the direction that they had come. Sherlock gave a smile smile and followed his new friend down the corridor. When Sherlock had caught up, John asked the taller boy what he wanted to be when he was older. Sherlock gave a slight frown and looked down at the floor. John knew something was _seriously _wrong when Sherlock started to scratch his arm, on his blazer, viciously with his nails. "Sherlock, do you- Do you self harm?" John asked in an almost whisper. Sherlock's eyes widened and he stopped dead where he stood. The blonde boy looked back to find Sherlock's '_death stare_' gaze upon him. "Well, do you?"

"A Pirate." Sherlock stated simply, as though his brain had only just processed the question that John had asked him a minute or so before. John's eyebrows raised and creased simultaneously. "I want to be a Pirate, if that's okay with you, John Watson."

"Of course it's alright with me, Sherlock. But that's not the question I want to know the answer to." Sherlock shook his head and stared down at his shoes, just like John had done a couple of hours previously. "You don't self harm?" Sherlock shook his head once more harshly.

"I haven't _ever _hurt myself in that way, John. I have found other alternatives to cure my boredom as it has not got _that _annoying that I have resulted to cutting skin from my own body." Sherlock's mind immediately turned to the skull in their dorm and he turned slightly paler than before. John noticed this, of course, but decided against pressing his friend. They'd already fallen out once today and that was enough for John. "My mind usually uses something else to calm it down. Something that it needs more often than not."

"And what would that be?" John pressed on now, getting rather angry. He never noticed how easy something could make him angry. It was starting to dawn upon him now, however. Sherlock sighed in reply before John heard another voice from up the corridor. He recognised it instantly.

"Sherlock, here, has a rather dangerous alternative to his every day tantrums, Mr Watson. He turns to the only thing he deems '_acceptable_' to his problems." John turned to find the same man from earlier, complete with umbrella, staring at both himself and Sherlock.

"Mr Government, do tell me, what would that be?" John's hands were now placed firmly on his hips. If anyone else saw him, they would say that John was standing in a _very _camp fashion.

"_Don't_." Sherlock growled from behind him, complete with a hiss and grit of the teeth.

"He enjoys the companionship of illegal substances such as cocaine." The man told him.

"_Him_? Have you met him?" John looked back at Sherlock to give him a small smile which was not received back and turned to look back at the man with the umbrella. "I bet you could search this place all day and you wouldn't be able to find _anything _that you could call _recreational_."

Sherlock stepped forward and turned John to face him, so that he could growl to him face to face and look into his eyes. "_John._"

"What?" Sherlock stared down at him in an attempt to silence the boy. "No. You?"

"_Shut up_!" The raven haired boy almost shouted before walking up to the man and attempting to stare him down. "What do you think you're doing offering him to pay money to spy on me?" Sherlock growled once more.

"Oh, dear Sherlock. Please grow up. You know how it upsets up mummy."

"It isn't me that upsets her, Mycroft. They just choose to punish _me _and not their '_golden _boy'. Well, our mother isn't here, is she, Mycroft?" Sherlock shouted back to the man and threw his arms around.

"Wait? '_Mummy_'?"

"_Mother_." Sherlock corrected before turning to John and waving a finger between Mycroft and himself, "_Our _mother."

"You're Mycroft Holmes. But you said that you were his Arch-Enemy?"

"And when I said I was concerned I meant that I was _really _concerned about my brother's well-fare. He has been expelled from _far _too many schools in his fifteen years of life and I wanted to make sure that it didn't happen again." Mycroft scowled at John and then looked back at his younger brother. John described the look as one of pure _loathing_. It was clear that they didn't get on, but _this _was more than that.

"Well. I-I thought you were some kind of, I don't know, criminal mastermind."

"Is that why you still continue to call me '_Mr Government_'?" John saw Sherlock smile at that, nearly missing it as Sherlock only looked back slightly. "My name is Mycroft Holmes. Not '_My_', '_Croft_' or _any _other abbreviation. Are we clear, Mr Watson?" John nodded. "Very well. Goodbye, Mr Watson. Goodbye, dear brother." Mycroft twirled his umbrella on his hand a few times before walking away from the boys.

John whispered to Sherlock, "Why can't I call him anything but Mycroft?"

Sherlock smirked and walked in the direction of biology. "Those were both names that I used to call him as a child. We used to be _great _pals, until he left me alone to go to school. Now our relationship doesn't exist." John hummed and walked beside his friend. "Shame for Mycroft really."

"What? How, exactly?"

"He wouldn't be on the end of all my fat jokes if we were closer." Both boys burst into laughter as they walked shoulder to shoulder. "Thank you, John." His friend didn't ask what he was thankful for in the end.


	5. Lots of girlfriends later

It had been one _long _and extremely _tedious _month at this new school for Sherlock, and it wasn't any better now than it was when he arrived here. John had started asking him to join him with his friends, but Sherlock refused immediately without even opening his eyes to acknowledge the blonde boy. There was currently nothing in the media about any _interesting _murders or crimes that Sherlock could be bother to move himself for. DI Lestrade of New Scotland Yard, Lestrade's dad, had refused to let him help with any of the cases that he had going on, even those that were old. 'Cold Cases' were not necessarily as stimulating as the current cases were for the Genius. Now he'd resulted to something that he always had. Something that calmed his mind as well as made it race.

Cocaine.

Sherlock, even though Mycroft had ruined his secret almost completely in front of his room mate, hadn't yet been caught by John when he was on a high. That probably _wasn't _going to last. He'd already caught him smoking in the last week and he definitely _wasn't _happy.

"_Sherlock_?" John's voice rang through the room like a bullet aimed straight at a wall. "_What _are you doing?"

Sherlock smirked to the window before turning slightly to see John's stance. Laughing he turned back and replaced the cigarette to his lips and took a deep breath in order to push John to the edge. He couldn't care less if John didn't like that he smoked. If John was allowed to date lots of girls in an attempt to prove to everyone that what Sarah had said, wasn't in fact true.

"Hello to you too, John. I didn't expect you back until after your date with- _Whatever _girl you're going out with today. I've lost track of all their names now." John took a deep intake of breath, stormed forward to his friend and snatched the cigarette out of Sherlock's mouth. "_Hey_!" Sherlock shouted and tried to grab it back from the smaller boy's hand.

"No, Sherlock. I thought Mycroft was joking about your habits. But maybe he wasn't! Where do you keep them?" Sherlock's raised his eyebrows and tried to stare John down. "No, no, no. We're not playing this game. Not this time." John threw the cigarette out of the window and watched as Sherlock tried to grab it before almost falling out. "Serves you right." John picked his jacket up from his bed and looked back at the raven haired boy. "I'm going out with Mary. I'll see you later, Sherlock."

"Hmm."

"Oh, and Mycroft was looking for Greg earlier? Any idea why?" John asked, slipping the jacket onto himself and straightening his shirt that lay underneath. When he heard Sherlock chuckle he looked up to find another cigarette in the boy's mouth. _Great_. He sighed to himself and took a step forward. "_So_, why are they meeting?"

Sherlock turned and smirked, "I believe that my brother and your best friend have begun a relationship together."

"_What_!?" John spluttered taking a second to think about what Sherlock had just told him.

"Either that, or they're looking to start a relationship but neither of them have told the other how they feel. I'm surprised it's even allowed."

"Sherlock, Greg is two years older than me, so he's as legal as any of the teachers in this place."

"My brother is twenty-two and hold a '_minor_' position in the British Government. Let's see how they match."

"_You _want _them _to be together?"

"Yes." John chuckled in disbelief before Sherlock continued, "It would provide me with blackmailing material for both of them. Mycroft to get off my back and take those bloody _cameras _down," Sherlock turned and gave the finger to a camera in the corner of the room, "and Lestrade do that his father will give me some of his cases from Scotland Yard's supplies. It's the best situation that could possibly happen... Well, for _me_, any way."

John sighed, said his final goodbye and left the room for Sherlock to continue smoking on his own.

That was four days ago. In that time, Greg had sent a '_Guess what happened to me last night, John!_' texts and John had sighed his way through every response. Turned out that Mycroft had '_kidnapped_' Greg and taken him to a _very _fancy restaurant in order to ask him '_to consider starting a relationship with him because he felt that it would be beneficial to them both_'. Greg had asked for that in English and Mycroft had replied, "Greg, would you like to be in a relationship with me?" And then paid the bill, retreating quickly.

According to his friend, Greg had chased him out of the restaurant, grabbed him by the hand and placed a kiss firmly on Mycroft's lips. John had _no idea _why _that_ was the part of the story that Greg decided John wanted to know the most... But he'd carried on listening any way. In the end, John had fallen asleep listening to his friend's tale, dreaming sweet dreams of the raven haired boy that he shared his room with. And not for the first time. John had found himself, in the past week, wanting to spend more time with Sherlock but, instead, spending more time with girlfriend's.

Sherlock, too, had been thinking about John a lot. He wouldn't admit it to John, but he was starting to think about more than John's subjects when it came to his Mind Palace. The way he looked when his hair was wet with a towel around his waist when he left the bathroom. Sherlock had more than once '_accidentally_' walked into John on the way out in order to touch John's skin.

But, today was different. Sherlock had already seen John off to see that _Mary _again and was now laying on his bed pushing the plunger down on the syringe that was deep under his skin. His belt was strapped tightly around his femur, hardly anything between the bone and skin, and his face contorted into an emotional bliss. He pulled the syringe back out of his arm, cleaned it off and returned it into the small box in his skull. John hadn't managed to find it yet, luckily.

The heroin fled through his veins, igniting the familiar feelings inside Sherlock that he kept to himself and causing his mind to rid itself of the pain. Heroin was a painkiller. To Sherlock, it got rid of everything that everyone said to him, deleting them from his mind without Sherlock himself needing to feel pain whilst doing that.

Sherlock was _always _careful not to overdose... Well, _nearly _always. He didn't want to die, especially now he found something, _someone_, that occupied his mind. _John_. Today was one of those day where he was, in fact, careful with the dosage. Whilst Sherlock was using heroin, he remained, _surprisingly_, Sherlock like whilst he was high. So, when Greg Lestrade sent him a text, he wasn't to high to reply in a civilised manner.

'_Hey, Sherlock. I was, erm, wondering if John has told you my news? Greg_'

'_If by news you mean the fact that you're dating my brother, then, yes, I have heard that _fantastic _news, Lestrade. -SH_'

'_Oh? And what do you think about it? Greg_'

'_I hope it doesn't make you feel uncomfortable! Greg_'

'Why_ would _I _feel uncomfortable about your sexual relations with my disgusting big brother? If you want to share your love with that _thing, _then you're more than welcome to keep him to yourself. -SH_'

'_Erm... Thanks? I guess. Greg_'

'_Don't push it, Lestrade. -SH_'

Sherlock put the phone back on the bedside table and shut his eyes. Hopefully John won't arrive back before Sherlock recovered from those texts... Oh. And his high.


	6. The End of the Beginning

_**Chapter 6**_

"Oh _GOD_!" Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs, slamming down the end of the harpoon that he had managed to acquirefrom his brother. Sherlock had returned to John covered, mostly on his face and down his chest, in blood. Apparently, it was pig's blood, but John wasn't sure whether he believed his friend or not. He knew how bored Sherlock was getting without any of the so called cases that Sherlock said he worked on in his free time.

"John, I need some. Get me some." The genius demanded once again slamming the harpoons end against the floor. John was pretty sure that if Sherlock kept that up, at the force he was applying to each hit, that he would make a hole in the floor. Sherlock would no doubt want to experiment on the effect...

"I really hope that you're asking for what I think you are, otherwise I can't help you. You're going to have to get a girlfriend or boyfriend on your own." John looked up to the taller boy from where he was sat on his bed and creased his eyebrows. "I've never asked. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend? No. Not really my _area_."

John looked down and chuckled before a thought crossed his mind and he looked back up. "_Oh. _Do you have a boyfriend? Which is _fine _by the way."

"I know it's fine." Sherlock was quick to snap back as he polished the end of the harpoon with... _John's jumper_?!

"So you _don't _have a boyfriend?"

"_No_."

"Fine. You're unattached like me. Good." Sherlock looked John up and down as the blonde boy went back to his homework as if nothing had happened. When John let out a sigh at the maths problem before him, Sherlock sighed after him. "What?" John asked, clearly confused as to why Sherlock was sighing at him.

"John, I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and though I'm flattered by your interest I'm looking for any kind of-"

"No. _No_. I wasn't- No. I was just saying, it's all good." John blushed furiously, against his willing not to go pink let _alone_ dark red, and stared down at his hands that were now twisting together. Sherlock smirked, his plan working perfectly.

"Don't worry yourself, John. I was only testing you." Sherlock crouched on his own bed and started rocking himself slightly. A slight smirk on his lips, but it was because he was bored more than anything.

"You were using me as an _experiment_? _Again_?!" John shouted and closed his maths book, throwing it down on the floor beside his bed. "I thought that we agreed that you _wouldn't _use me as an experiment any more, Sherlock."

"Well, I _need _a case!" Sherlock shouted, throwing his hands around his head in a frustrated motion. His nose crinkling and his eyebrows creasing into the centre of his forehead.

"You just solved one! By harpooning a dead pig, _apparently_!"John shouted back, he too throwing his hands in the air to show how frustrated he was with Sherlock. He then stood up and walked to the mirror on their wall. Straightening his hair, John turned back to see Sherlock looking at him, not in a questioning way at all, but, with what John describes as, '_The Manifesting Madness_' look that Sherlock has had quite a lot recently when studying John. "You keep staring at me, Sherlock. Are you okay?" Sherlock blinked a few times before he came back to himself.

"Y-yes, I'm great, John. Absolutely perfect, in fact. Oh look," Sherlock announced looking at the message he had received on his phone, "Lestrade has sent me a text."

"His name is _Greg_, you could just call him that. What does _Greg _say?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes and reads his text. Smiling, he jumped from the bed and wrapped his coat and scarf around himself and ran out of the door, leaving John behind to stare at the empty space where Sherlock had been seconds before. When reality hit him, _finally_, he sped from the room and followed after his friend.

"_Sherlock_?"

"Oh, John, please do keep up because if you're going to drag along behind me for the whole case then there's really _no point _in you being here." Sherlock shouted behind him as he continued to walk, too quickly for John's liking, towards where Greg was standing.

"Well, if you _slowed _down and actually waited for me, then you'd realise that I can't help you with whatever this case is, Sherlock. I have, well, prior arrangements made." Sherlock looked John up and down with curiosity, watching as John squirmed under his gaze.

"What?"

"You do realise what day it is today, right?" Sherlock shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. They went into those pockets so deep that John started to believe Sherlock had a Tardis coat. Pockets that would never end and continue to grow. John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's Valentine's Day, Sherlock, and I have a date tonight." He said, almost _proudly_ in Sherlock's books.

"Yes, with me. We have to solve this murder, John."

"No-"

"Sherlock!" Greg called to the taller boy and walked towards them both. "We have something that'll interest you. It's not under great circumstances considering it's one of our fellow students, but my dad has put me in charge. I know how good you are from my dad's report, so I thought you could solve this one for me?" Greg asked it as a question because he knew how stubborn the '_great, but slightly annoying, Sherlock Holmes_' could be.

"It depends on what has happened, Lestrade. Would you please stop the idle chit-chat and get on with explaining to me what happened to the boy and then allow me to get on with what I do best." Sherlock scowled, pushing past Lestrade and walking over to where the boy, yes Sherlock had got it right, lay dead on the floor.

"Carl Powers. Came here today to practice for his next swimming competition and then drowned in the pool. Nobody knows what happened but they believe that he had some sort of fit." Greg explained to John as Sherlock crouched down next to the boy, Carl, and examined him, maybe a little _too _closely.

"Where are all of his belongings, Lestrade? I'll need to examine them." Sherlock announced, jumping up and pointing to the body. "John, do you want to have a look?"

John's eyebrows raised when he looked at Greg for permission with a nod, and went to kneel by the body. "I don't know what you expect me to find, Sherlock. I am only a teenager, you know. I haven't gotten my degree in Medicine yet." John turned to see the raven boy, that wasn't there any more. He sighed to himself and looked inside the mouth of the deceased before him. What he found was not only surprising, but completely... _Odd_.

"So, this is all of Carl's belongings that he had with him today?" Greg nodded and looked down at everything before him. "Do you see what's missing, Lestrade?" Greg shook his head and looked up at the taller boy. Sherlock sighed and looked Greg up and down, studying everything on him. "How is your relationship going with my brother? Taken you to lots of 'expensive'," Sherlock made quotation marks with his fingers and continued, "restaurants to only turn you down when you wanted to go further than the quick peck with him?"

"Shut up, Sherlock. What's missing from Carl Powers' belongings that you see then?"

"Dear God, what's it like in your funny little brain? It must be so boring! Why can't you just see what's right in front of you, Lestrade. Even your dad is better than you. Look at the clothes that he has here. Where are his shoes? He has every piece of clothing here, _except _for his shoes. Where. Are. _They_?" Sherlock growled to the older boy as he stared at him in disbelief. "Close your mouth, Lestrade. Looking like a goldfish isn't fitting for you."

"There were no shoes here, Sherlock. And his room mate said that he'd worn his favourite pair down here. My dad doesn't want to treat this is murder yet, so I'll let you know what the autopsy shows when it's done." Greg started to walk away when Sherlock grabbed him by the arm. "Sherlock?"

"Is that it? I'll let you know?"

"Yeah, sorry, Sherlock, but it's up to my dad what happened here because he's the Detective Inspector, so you can shut it!" Greg walked away from the taller boy and saw John talking to his dad, who had just arrived. "Hey, dad." He called and his dad turned immediately.

"Greg. John was just showing me something that he found in Carl Powers' mouth. Here." Greg was handed a small pink piece of paper, that had clearly been folded before, but was now open so that Greg could read what was written inside:

'_Happy Valentine's Day, Sherlock. _

_Xx_'

"W-who's this from?"

"Who knows. But it's for Sherlock. Do you think that I should tell him?" John asked.

"No. You know what he's like. He'll go '_investigating_' and come back with a broken limb... Or _three_." John's eyebrows creased together as he listened to DI Lestrade's words carefully. So, Sherlock had done a lot of work with Greg's dad before then, considering he knew _exactly _what type of person Sherlock happened to be. "John. If you think that Sherlock should know, then it's up to you to tell him. Thanks, you've been a big help today, John Watson." John shook the man's hand and then left to find Sherlock standing outside the pool's door, clearly bored as he had fallen asleep against the wall.

"Serves you right, you sod." John muttered to himself and then tapped Sherlock on the cheek. "Oi, wake up, you daft idiot." Sherlock shook himself awake and immediately went into attack mode. Arms flying around him like he was trying to do Kung-Pu.

Sherlock looked like an idiot.

John couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"Oh, hello. John. Erm... Sorry about that. I thought that Mycroft's men were coming here to kidnap me... _Again_. They _always _do it when I'm sleeping. You wouldn't notice, why should you, you're drugged before I am." Sherlock smiled slightly and blushed for a moment.

"Why are you blushing, Sherlock? You never, _ever_ blush, my friend. I'm getting scared." John laughed to himself and noticed that Sherlock was staring at him intently. Was there something on his face? He didn't know, but he wiped it any way. He looked down at his hand to see if there was any dirt on his face, there wasn't, and when he looked back up, his eyes met Sherlock's. Somehow, and for some reason, closer than they were before he looked down.

"_Jawn_." Sherlock had _never _said his name like that, nor had he ever whispered it like there was no other word that could possibly matter to him at this point in time. Before John noticed, Sherlock had placed his hand on John's face, cupping his cheek and keeping John staring at him.

"Sherlock?" John whispered back letting out a deep breath that he didn't know he'd been holding, Sherlock took John's closed eyes as an opportunity to run away. He did just that.

Sherlock kept running until he was safe inside his dorm and panting against the closed door. On the other side , he could hear John's approaching footsteps. Slightly louder than normal because he was running. Trying to tell Sherlock that he was a _freak _probably. When he patted against the door, Sherlock opened it up, letting John into the room.

As soon as John was in the room, the door had been slammed and John was pressed up against it. Once again, he was staring into the eyes of his friend and breathing heavier than before. Although, that was probably due to the running he had just made John do, Sherlock took it as _attraction. _

Sherlock moved his face closer, once again holding John's face in his hand. John moved his head closer, wanting the electricity that he felt inside him right now to be passed through to Sherlock in the only way that he wanted right now. When the last of the distance was lost and the two pairs of lips pressed together firmly, a wave of relief and pure _lust _for the other side. Sherlock opened his eyes and moved away slowly, having his first kiss pressing someone up against a door isn't what Sherlock thought he'd ever do.

_Oh god_.

When John opened his eyes he found the raven-haired boy standing further away from him than before. His eyes were wide and his hand was tracing his lips. He'd just realised what he'd done...

"Sherlock?" John asked softly, raising a hand to touch his friend's, _boyfriend's?_, face and stroking his cheekbone lightly. He wouldn't tell Sherlock just yet, but he _loved _his cheekbones. It was one of his many features that John loved.

"J-john, I-I'm so s-sorry. I... I don't know what came over me..." Sherlock made an attempt to get past John and out of the door, but John held him by his shoulders and stopped Sherlock dead in the middle of his escape. John's lips were teasing Sherlock's now, as John licked around the other boys' and tried to get access in-between them. When Sherlock started to return John's movements, the blonde boy let out a small moan and fisted his fingers deep into Sherlock's curls.

"See. You don't have to be sorry." John mumbled against Sherlock's lips when they had both pulled away. He gave the taller boy one more chaste kiss and moved to allow Sherlock to leave if he wanted to.

"John, I think you should know that I've never done something like this before, and might need your assistance when we get to certain... _Areas _of this new relationship." Sherlock mumbled quickly and quietly, but John managed to get most of it.

"Hey. We don't have to do this if it's going to make you uncomfortable-"

"I told you." Sherlock smirked, removing his coat from his shoulders and hanging it on the peg behind him, without breaking eye contact with his John.

"You told me what, _exactly_?" John replied, completely bewildered that Sherlock had changed the topic completely.

"That you are bi-sexual. On the first day we met I told you that, and you didn't believe me." Both boys looked at each other and giggled slightly.

"Sorry, about that."


End file.
